


black lantern damian

by drakefeathers



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakefeathers/pseuds/drakefeathers
Summary: (set during Damian's death) Damian is resurrected by a black lantern ring, and his target is Dick.





	black lantern damian

They watched a zombie movie once, Dick remembers. Damian thought it was a joke. He scoffed at the characters and spent the entire time pointing out their mistakes, explaining how it was all their own faults they ended up as the infected undead. He would’ve done better.

Damian’s supposed to be dead. But right now he’s in the cave, his skin clammy and grey. He smells like rainwater and soil and the grave he crawled out of. There’s a black ring glowing on his finger. Its energy seeps away the warmth of the air around him.

He’s holding a sword streaked with Dick’s blood and he isn’t finished yet.

“Grayson!” Damian’s voice calls from far away in the cave, frustrated and so familiar it makes Dick’s heart ache. He wants to run and find the boy, gather him up in a tight hug. But he can’t. That isn’t his little brother. That… That thing wants to kill him. “You coward. Come out and fight!”

“Just a sec!” Dick yells over his shoulder. He tries to sound calm, stay calm. Those Lanterns feed off emotion, he knows that.

He doesn’t know why this is happening again. He doesn’t know if it’s a second wave or just a stray, forgotten ring, or if the latter might mean the former. And he doesn’t know _why Damian? Why?_

He hurries down the rows of storage lockers, all of them full of old projects, old, specialized weapons. He skims the labels for one that might help.

“C’mon, c’mon…” he mutters impatiently. “Bruce, I know you developed _something…”_

And there it is. Bruce’s contingency plans never disappoint. Dick tucks the device into his belt and goes to face the Lantern. It’s time to end this.

Damian is sitting in Bruce’s chair like a prince, sword lying across his lap, waiting for Dick.

The two of them are the only ones here. Them and the dog, but Titus is scared and hiding. Something about Damian, about the ring and the cold energy rippling in the air, has him spooked. He won’t go anywhere near the boy.

Dick unmasked Damian in their fight earlier, desperate to find out if the eyes underneath were blue. They aren’t. They’re as white and blank as the lenses that hid them.

“Locking down the cave was pointless,” says Damian, standing up. “I’ll be able to find a way out after you die. Or they’ll find a way in—it serves the same purpose.” He frowns bitterly when Dick doesn’t respond. “Do you like working alone now? You _prefer_ it? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t want their help, and that’s why you went back to _this_.” He points at Dick’s chest with the sword, right where he used to wear a bat symbol.

The Lantern’s trying to bait him. Provoke him. Dick won’t let it work, not like last time with his parents.

“I thought it would be better this way.” He shrugs. “You know, just the two of us. Like old times.”

It _is_ better, that the others aren’t here. Especially Bruce with his regrets and his guilt, and his _ragefeargreedhope—_ he might see this as a step towards bringing Damian back _._ His emotions would just make the Lantern stronger.

A smile crosses the dead face. Fleeting. “We were the best.”

“Yeah. We were.” Dick is ready for the swing of the sword when it comes. He knows Damian’s tricks.

_love_

He hears it like a reverberating whisper whenever his strikes make contact, whenever Damian hits him back. Whenever he touches the shifting layer of shadows that crawl across Damian’s body. It’s as quiet as a thought, and Dick knows it’s coming from the ring. He feels its hunger, how much it wants to feed on him.

_love_

The sword gets knocked away. So do Dick’s escrima sticks. They’re down to fists and feet. Dick’s fingers and face go numb from the cold Damian is radiating, but he doesn’t slow down.

Damian’s white eyes reflect a flash of vivid pink back at Dick. He wonders if that’s what the Lantern’s seeing.

_love_

Dick gets the boy pinned against the floor. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that this isn’t Damian, that it’s okay to use more pressure because nothing’s going to hurt it. 

The whispering becomes stronger, a thrumming in his brain: _lovelovelovelove_

A cold hand shrouded in flickering black shadows claws at Dick’s chest, spreading dark tendrils. The contact starts to sap his energy away. He feels it draining, and he knows he has to act. It’s going to kill him if he doesn’t.

“I love you, Damian. No matter what.”

The Lantern sneers and lets out a derisive _-tt-_ that hurts Dick more than all the bruises, more than the wrenched shoulder or the sliced gashes on his legs and arms. It sounds the same as it always did. He never thought he’d hear it again. 

“And…” Dick takes a deep breath, forces himself to look into the boy’s glowing white eyes. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Wha—” Damian yanks at the handcuffs suddenly holding him to the railing. They rattle and don’t break. “ _Grayson_. Release me!”

The weapon in Dick’s hands lets out a shrill hum as it powers up. He points it at Damian.

“Grayson, stop this! You can’t— _Don’t you dare—_ ” 

The flash of light is dazzlingly white and searing hot. Like a mini supernova in the cave. The protective lenses in Dick’s mask aren’t enough, he has to cover his eyes with his arm, and even by then it’s too late. His eyes water and burn. All he can see is white. All he can hear is Damian’s dwindling cries.

Dick thinks he passed out. He finds himself on his back, still blinded by the flash. Temporary. It gets better after a few seconds. He keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see.

It was his last trick. If it didn’t work, he’s doomed. He waits for Damian to regenerate and kill him.

It doesn’t happen. The ring’s tapped out.

Eventually Titus crawls out of hiding, lies down next to him, and licks the side of his face where tears are trickling down. He didn’t realize he was crying.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers to nobody. He thinks he can still hear Damian’s voice echoing in the cave.


End file.
